


luctor et emergo

by intertwingular



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Angst, M/M, SO, and fluff, and then ambiguous past yullma, please help my poor kids, there's yullen, these kids are broken and bruised and need a break, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 00:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6542329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intertwingular/pseuds/intertwingular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(i'll struggle, but i'll survive) </p><p>night time is tough for allen walker and kanda yuu. nightmares are never just nightmares, and dreams are never quite there.<br/>they are, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	luctor et emergo

**Author's Note:**

> it's one am  
> what am i doing.

Allen wakes up at two am, to the sound of Yuu whimpering quietly, and thinks, _ah. It's one of those nights, tonight._  

Indeed, it is.  

There's sweat cooling on the nape of Allen's neck, just underneath ruffled layers of stark white hair, and underneath his bangs as well. The curse scar that runs it's scarlet red course through his right eye throbs, despite there being no akuma nearby. And Allen – Allen closes his eyes in the dark for just a moment, and presses a hand to his forehead.  

(the dark doesn't yawn out before him when he closes his eyes, infinitely long and deep; instead, mana's body is there, broken and lifeless; lenalee is there, hair sheared short, trapped within _that crystal,_ and lavi doesn't smile, and wears a mask so _much_ like the one allen lives and breathes and knows as well as he would a lover, and allen doesn't _know who that is, where is_ _lavi_ _?_ and yuu is on the floor of the ark, broken and bleeding, skin bolic looming above his corpse.)  

He opens his eyes, and the images are gone, if only just for now. But Yuu still whimpers besides him, and Allen lies there, awake, and threads thin fingers through the silken strands of pitch dark hair. Helplessness is an emotion he knows all too well, but until Kanda wakes up, all Allen can do for him is try to soothe his nightmares while he sleeps.   

He has no lullabies to sing, nothing but old, dusty dried up hymns of a wanderer. No songs that come from the tongues of loving mothers, no melodies from fathers, or mirages that resemble father figures. Nothing but the song of a Musician who abandoned his family _(there was no other way_ _,_ _nea hisses, saccharine sweet as always; it was that or die, exorcist._ allen. _)_ or the creepy, sung tales of a circus man's trade.  

Yuu would punch him either way.  

Instead, Allen waits for Kanda to wake up, and listens to the night whisper in his ear, the stories of all those who have whispered their fears, their sins, their deepest, darkest secrets into her ever-cocked ears.  

She whispers to him, and in return, Allen weaves her a tale of a boy fated to always keep walking forward, for everyone left him sooner or later. _That boy is long dead,_ he tells her. _So, if you find the fragments of his spirit lurking around in the corners of old memories, tell him that he is needed soon._  

The night murmurs a laughed promise, and reminds him that even if he loves and is loved in return, he will always be the boy who will have to keep walking. Just not always alone.

* * *

 

Kanda wakes up in cold sweat, and grabs, reaches for Alma. He needs to know that Alma is safe that Alma is _alive,_ not a corpse in the old ruins of an ancient civilization. Not ashes and bone. Alive.  

He reaches for Alma, and pulls him close. _It was just a dream, just a dream, thank God. Thank God._ He buries his face into the crook of Alma's neck, and _breathes._ There are fat tears sliding down his face, faster and faster as he sobs, soft and muffled.  

"You're _alive,"_ he whispers, soft and disbelieving. " _Alma."_  

 _He's okay, Alma is okay, and_ _Yuu_ _can breathe and -_  

"Kanda?"  

 _It's not Alma._  

It's Allen, with his stupid hair, as bright as fucking snow, and his storm gray eyes, crinkling in concern, with a touch of wild, cornered animal fear, staring at Kanda, and Kanda - 

Kanda _hates._ For a moment, he hates Allen, hates his stupid looks, hates how it's _him,_ and not _Alma._  

But then, there's Allen's hand threading through his hair gently, as he whispers soft sonnets about the night, and how she listens to all who will speak with her. He tells Yuu how she talks back, if you can only listen for long enough.  

And sure enough, Allen brings Yuu back, with soft touches, and softer words. Stories spoken so softly, tuned to the melody of his sleep-hoarse voice.  

Yuu tries not to think of how _hard_ it is to love someone who is in love with another person all the while, as Allen lulls him back to sleep.  

He places a calloused hand atop the nape of Allen's neck, and feels the slight dampness underneath the feather-thin layers of bird's nest hair. Yuu closes his eyes, and tucks himself into the nook in between Allen's chin and shoulder, slowing breaths tracing the delicate curve of his collarbone. Kanda's seen it broken so many times – by his own hand in reckless, cross-campus spars, or in battle – but every time it heals, until not even Kanda can really tell that it was broken before. He murmurs choked apologies into Allen's neck –  to Alma, who is dead and _gone,_ and to Allen, who lives in the fear of losing himself everyday, and to how Yuu can't _do anything_ about it, but promise a swift death if that should happen.  

He stays there, and breathes in a scent that is undeniably Allen, because, if anything, all Alma could smell of was the light fragrance of amber and chemicals that had never gone away. Allen smells of vanilla and dark coffee, sharp and sweet, and heady.  

He falls asleep this way, to the whispered tale of two brothers, and the family they had left behind, and how one was lost and the other still couldn't be found.  

(yuu would be lying if he said he didn't know what the story was about.)  

* * *

They're running through their daily routine. Yuu is back from his morning workout, and Allen has just gotten out from the shower, steam curling out from the bathroom. The other Exorcist has one of Yuu's old sweaters on, and it's baggy on his frame, if only due to Allen's still-short stature. A towel is draped around his neck, catching stray drops of water from his wet hair.  

"Morning," he greets, bending down to peck Allen on the forehead. Mugen is propped up against the armoire, and Yuu begins to pull out some clothing from the chest of drawers by the bathroom.  

"Mmm," Allen greets, still blinking sleep from his eyes. It'll take several cups of coffee from Jeryy before he wakes up fully, and the pang of guilt that races and prods at Yuu's heart only grows stronger.  

"Sorry about last night," he mumbles while pulling on a uniform-issued shirt. It's not his day off – or the semblance of a "day off" - but it is Allen's. He reaches for the larger of the two Black Order uniforms hanging from the hooks, but then, another hand is clasped around his, black with Innocence.  

"Don't apologize, BaKanda," Allen says, tugging his own uniform coat off from the rack. He's out of the oversized sweater from before, instead in the turtleneck top similar to Yuu's, and a pair of uniform pants. He buttons his coat up with deft and nimble fingers – those of a pianist, and then pulls Yuu's head down ever-so-slightly, before pressing his lips gently against Kanda's. The kiss is chaste but tender, and Kanda busies himself with buttoning his coat after Allen breaks away to go find his shoes.  

 _Love,_ Yuu thinks, as he touches his lips, _is an odd thing. A person can fall in love more than once._  

He sheaths Mugen at his side, and waits for Allen to join him outside the door of their room. He bends down slightly to kiss him once more, lips melding against lips, before they head to breakfast. 

Allen intertwines his hands with Kanda's, and well – that's all the confirmation he needs. 

**Author's Note:**

> this fic/drabble was inspired by mslenali on tumblr, and their headcannon on kanda and "coping" with alma's death. they tore me up, so naturally, a fic needed to be written.
> 
> please drop a comment if you think these two were ooc! or, if you just want to tell me what you thought!


End file.
